


A place we could escape

by Rcmanov (orphan_account)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Immortality, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Rcmanov
Summary: “Death is not an exact science, which is irritating for those of us who appreciate precision.”Lee Donghyuck often wondered if this was a punishment. For being a terrible person, for leaving unfinished business on earth. Or rather, for leaving no business on earth. Not all those who wander are lost, but being lost implies a destination and that is something he's been stripped of. Until one day, they collide.Few things are absolute. Even Lucifer was once an angel.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. Waltz for Venus

_**Waltz for Venus** _

They sat on the roof of the building overlooking the ever-buzzing metropolis for what felt like hours. If time had suspended its course, no one had cared to inform the inhabitants, who at the ungodly hour kept pouring out of subway stations, hailing taxies, walking the streets with determination. They sat and looked. Their legs dangled in the void underneath them leading to the hard kiss of the asphalt far below, but they didn’t seem to care. Had learnt not to.

The autumn breeze carded through Donghyuck’s hair, but he couldn’t feel the cold shiver that he knew was its faithful companion. Hadn’t been able to for a while.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” Renjun asked in an enigmatic way. His right shoulder was brushing against Donghyuck’s.

Donghyuck nodded mindlessly. It was. He never meant to notice, but somehow, every year, the date seemed to invite itself back into his life. Years had become decades had become centuries, and still he remembered and still he felt this odd sensation in his chest of something missing. Of a void he couldn’t seem to fill.

“October 21st,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. But he knew Renjun had heard him. “The day I died.”

He lifted his gaze to look back at Renjun and his unreadable expression. In all their years together, he had only asked Renjun once about his earthly life, only to get a long stare into the distance and a shrug. Renjun, it seemed, cultivated mystery. Donghyuck was fine with it. All he knew was that Renjun's eyes looked into a place far away a few days after Midsummer, June 27th. On those days, Donghyuck usually gave him space. He knew Renjun and himself were fundamentally different, in that Donghyuck could never have born the burden of his rainy October evenings on his own.

“Do you need to talk about it?” Renjun asked in his usual neutral tone.

Like he didn’t care.

Donghyuck knew better. Every year, Renjun asked, and more often than not, Donghyuck declined. But this year… the hole in his chest was growing larger. In the distance, sirens went off. Someone’s luck had probably run out.

“I just- what did I do to end up here, you know?” He started, punctuating his question by a small head movement. “I'm not _supposed_ to still be here on Earth. Whatever there is after death, I should be there.”

Renjun nodded, placing a hand that wanted itself to be comforting on Donghyuck's thigh.

“But you are.”

“But I was a criminal. I spent my life breaking the law and laughing in the face of danger and death, and in the end, I died because my heart stopped and wouldn't start again.”

He felt a faint smirk creeping its way on his lips. It had been ironic that his life should end in such an anticlimactic way. He continued:

“So, you know, today I wonder. Is this a punishment for being a terrible person,” he asked, gesturing towards the restless city. “For leaving unfinished business on this earth?”

If only he had turned his head. He would have caught Renjun's slight nod. Instead, he stared at the distant blinking of a plane flying above the city, never landing there. This was a place made for leaving. One way or another.

“It doesn’t matter anymore now,” Renjun said softly, gently squeezing his thigh.

Donghyuck nodded. Renjun’s detached attitude was something he had always admired. No matter how long he had been dead, Renjun had been here longer. He was ancient, and by that Donghyuck didn’t mean any bad joke about his age. He simply had this undeniable aura of timelessness, of someone who had seen it all, and that nothing could surprise.

“There are no sins you need to atone for,” Renjun added faintly. Anyone else would have missed the words amongst the buzzing of the city below them. Lee Donghyuck was not anyone else. “Human concepts can be so far from the truth of this world.”

When the dawn rose on October 22nd, what remained of Lee Donghyuck’s human life was once again scattered to the wind. Though he didn’t pretend to know the inner workings of what had happened to him, it was clear that something within him had changed. The boy had died, and with him his attachments to anything earthly. There was something fundamentally inhuman in the way he carefully observed and assessed everything his amber eyes landed on. Although he remembered and understood his actions and reactions from a long time ago, back when he was still alive, and as someone would expect from a teenager looking back on their childish behaviour, he had changed. There was no point, after centuries, to hold onto those few years he had on Earth. This wasn’t him anymore. And even then, anyone who had known him was long gone. It did not do well to dwell on faint memories of a long-forgotten time. He was something else now, and what he had uncovered of the world’s truth had marked a definitive change in himself. There was no good or bad, right or wrong, as years of roaming the world with Renjun had proved. Just people trying to make the most out of the little time offered to them. Most played by the rules. A few did not, and that was usually when Donghyuck and Renjun’s presence became significant.

Words had long died down on his lips. The silence had been comfortable. Always was. After what felt like an eternity together, Donghyuck didn’t quite know if they had always been that way. Renjun was quiet, and Donghyuck usually was not, and so the former listened to his rambling and his silly jokes and his meaningless comments. But, as two sides of the same coin, words were useless between them. So that, when Donghyuck stopped speaking, the silence that remained wasn’t a wall standing between the two boys, but rather a blurry, comforting illusion of privacy. An illusion, for their fates had been so tightly interwoven over the years that truthfully, neither of them truly knew where they stopped and where the other started.

“We should go,” Donghyuck finally declared.

“The world will not save itself.” Renjun agreed.

They jumped off the edge of the building, towards the looming shadows of the asphalt down below.

Donghyuck had decided a long time ago that he would stay as far away from hospitals as he could. For a lot of people, this could be explained by a fear of doctors or illnesses or death or all of those at once, a not-so-rare occurrence well documented by psychologists. As much as people were morbidly fascinated by death, especially when it was violent and sordid, they were also terrified by their own end. Humans were full of contradictions like that. Some said that made them interesting. Renjun said it made them unpredictable and confusing.

However, Lee Donghyuck’s reason for avoiding hospitals and other gatherings of people in dire need of a bit of luck (more like a lot of it, actually) was completely different. He wasn’t worried about dying. As a matter of fact, he had been through the process already, and although he knew his experience might be different from the rest of mortals and it hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park, it wasn’t half as bad as some people made it out to be. At least the _pain_ stopped.

No, Donghyuck was worried about the people around him. He was worried about the power his touch held. People in these places most certainly didn’t need his blessing. Didn’t deserve it.

On the other hand, hospitals were very familiar to Renjun. He did not _enjoy_ going there, but unlike Donghyuck, he could make a difference. A good one. And so relentlessly, Renjun went to places of sadness and misfortune, gracefully giving hope and comfort to people. Donghyuck thought that it must have been the way Jesus had felt, if he had really existed, except that Renjun wasn’t doing it because he was starting a new religion, or because he genuinely loved humans. He did it because it was his job and he was Huang Renjun.

Donghyuck left Renjun at the door, knowing that they would find their way back to each other. They always did. Donghyuck watched as the frail, ethereal boy turned back to shoot him a smile and wave at him before disappearing inside the dreary building. He stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds, staring at the door and the continuous flow of people going in and out.

He quickly snapped out of his contemplation. He too had things to do.

He wandered down the aisles of the supermarket, mindlessly picking items and pretending for a while to consider buying them before unvaryingly putting them back on the shelf, his gaze never leaving the middle-aged man for an instant. The neon lamp above him was casting a cold, artificial light on the cramped space, a painful reminder of the sunsets that were getting earlier and earlier with the approaching winter. He heard two old ladies behind him talking about the meals they were going to cook for their grandchildren when they came over to visit. He smiled to himself.

Donghyuck wasn’t sure why he always tried to look inconspicuous, though he knew perfectly well that those people would not remember him, whatever he might do. From the corner of his eye, he saw the man walk towards the register. Slowly, Donghyuck put down the jar of pickles, removed the gloves he was wearing, as he always did, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat, before moving towards the register himself. He carefully observed as the cashier scanned the few, but pricey items the man was purchasing, as the man thoughtlessly swiped his card. Just as the man was about to put the items away in the small grocery bag he had brought with him, Donghyuck crashed into him, the impact quickly followed by the sound of the can of food the man had held in his hand falling to the floor.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” Donghyuck apologised, quickly moving his hands out of his pockets.

He crouched down, intending on picking up the can, but the man had had the same idea. Their hands brushed for an instant, before Donghyuck seized the item, and they both got up simultaneously.

“Here you are,” Donghyuck said, handing the man his purchase. “Sorry again.”

The man accepted the apology with a huff, mumbling a “Be careful next time, young man,” before turning away and forgetting about Donghyuck’s very existence. The boy himself retrieved his gloves from his pocket, slipping them back on, and slipped the hood of his coat over his head, exiting the store.

Donghyuck knew that the man he was leaving behind in the store was going to walk home carrying his groceries, quite pleased with himself until he set eyes on his children waiting at home. He almost clenched his fist thinking of what he knew would happen. It was almost muscle memory for him. He forced himself to detach from the feeling once again. He had to let humans lead their own lives. All he could do was make sure that the man lost his luck, and that it would lead to him being held accountable for his actions. Donghyuck stared at his own gloved hands. He did what he had to do.

And just like that, Donghyuck started his night, knowing that at least one of his victims had deserved his fate.

Crowds had always been easier. He didn’t have to look at anyone he was touching. He just had to let his hands flutter across someone else’s exposed skin, mutter an empty apology and move on to someone else. He didn’t have to know who was affected by his power. He didn’t have to look at the repercussions he would have on someone else’s life. He wished he could have said he didn't _care_ anymore, now that he was not human. But he couldn't get himself to be indifferent, though his perspective had profoundly changed over the years.

As he brushed past a group of teens, Donghyuck thought about how crucial their roles, his and Renjun’s, were. How they were quietly, unknowingly, saving those people’s lives. He smiled to himself. ‘Save’ was maybe too strong a word, but the protection they offered against chaos was real. That’s what Renjun had said.

“We’ve always existed. They _need_ us.”

The world was a closed, ticking clock. Humans, with their beliefs and magic and science, had always believed that they were trying to uncover the truth behind its regular motion, thought they could explain the hinges and the little dented wheel turning inside its mechanism. But of course, Donghyuck had come to realise, they were wrong. All humans could attempt to do was predict the movement of the clock’s hands, they could create their laws and their formulas, and calculate what the next move would be, never the forces behind them. Donghyuck and Renjun _were_ one of those forces. In truth, one of the few that humans could actually _see_. Too bad the two of them were erased from people’s memories the second they were out of sight. It was for the best. A ticking clock.

He continued walking down the crowded street, humming along to the songs that poured out of the stores’ inviting open doors. Donghyuck wondered how Renjun was doing, before pushing the thought aside. He knew the other had no trouble accomplishing his task, gracefully granting the honour of his touch to anyone who was lucky enough to approach him. Huang Renjun had had years and years to perfect his craft, and so Donghyuck looked up to him, though he knew the other would hate the idea. He was so far removed from those human frivolities as he called them. Donghyuck also envied that. Though dying had taken with it a great part of what had made him human, its emotions and contradictions and tragedies, he knew there was definitely more of that left in him than in Renjun.

It hadn't hurt. All he remembered was that one second he was running and the next he was not. He had turned towards his companions to escape but his feet had refused to follow. Everything stopped. He had just caught a glimpse of them looking at him as they, unmoving, were getting further and further away, the edges of his vision slowly darkening like the corners of an old yellowed photograph. He had extended his arm and suddenly everything had turned to black. He never felt the fall.

He had heard later that the reviving hurt like nothing else. The heart was a stubborn little piece of machinery, not easily convinced to resume its course. After the initial shock came the inevitable, desperate gasp for air. Pain coursing through one's veins. It filled one's arms, legs, lungs, head and there was nowhere to run. Just hoping that the pain would stop, one way or another. Some said it hurt so much it made you wonder, was it even worth it to come back.

When he had woken up, Lee Donghyuck wasn’t given the choice. He hadn't been revived. The first thing he had seen was Renjun's face hovering over him. He had felt lighter. This was what a heart free from sin weights, the abbess would have said. There is no such thing as sin, Renjun had whispered one night, gazing longingly at the moon.

Renjun had stayed silent, his piercing eyes looking down at Donghyuck.

“What- what is this?” he had attempted, timid as he felt his voice was changed in a slight peculiar way. He got up to his elbows and looked around him, confused. A street. Visibly different from the one he had ran in just moments earlier. But what shocked him the most were the tiny snowflakes gracefully plummeting to the ground. “It can’t be snowing. It’s October.”

“It snows here in October.” Renjun shrugged.

Tired of waiting for the other to extend his arm and help him get up, Donghyuck took the matter in his own hands and easily got up to his feet, though he wobbled as he stood upright, unused to the feeling of lightness that had invaded his body. He brushed the few snowflakes off his clothes.

“Here…? Where am I?”

“Not where you think you are.” Renjun had replied. How cold he was, Donghyuck had thought, how lonely he himself had felt. He had awoken in this unfamiliar street, his chest empty as a broken jar, and he had been met by this peculiar stranger, who seemed to care little about Donghyuck’s confusion.

“You’re dead.”

Donghyuck felt like he was knocked off his feet. “I’m what now?”

But as he uttered the words, he somehow knew that the unknown boy was right. Biology had yet to find out what made things _alive_ , but in that instant Donghyuck knew that he no longer had it. Then why was he standing still, staring at the other boy’s delicate features as he came to the realisation that he had _died_ in that alley?

“Why?” was all that came to him.

“I’m gonna tell you something, Lee Donghyuck,” Renjun had said, walking over to him and placing his hand on the other’s shoulder. “Things in life do not happen for a reason. So the question you should be asking is why not?”

He was dumb-founded. And this was only the first of a long string of impossible observations, and even more impossible explanations.

“I’m Huang Renjun.”

“I’m Lee Donghyuck, but you already knew that.”

Donghyuck still had trouble putting words on what he was, despite an undeniable gut feeling. What had seemed so strange and delirious to him years ago had now become instinctive, an unquestionable part of his identity, as tenuous as it sometimes was. It was difficult for him to maintain a sense of self when all he could be was defined by others. After all this time, he still remembered perfectly the moment Renjun had explained to him their true nature, though the rest of his memories felt more like a blur, as if he had been sleep-walking for decades.

“This is not easy to say,” Renjun had started. He let out a laugh. “But we’re not here as mere bystanders. We’re more than that.”

Donghyuck furrowed his brows unconsciously, intrigued by Renjun’s mysterious words. He’d learn later that this was simply the way Renjun spoke, like he forgot other people weren’t in his head, couldn’t grasp the deeper thought behind each of his sentences.

Donghyuck knew that this was the moment where he should have freaked out, panicked, lost it, yet he seemed to feel somewhat detached from the situation.

“What are we then?” he asked, after Renjun failed to explain himself and remained silent.

Renjun spared him a glance. He appeared to brace himself, before simply stating:

“Angels.”

Donghyuck remembered perfectly what he had done then, standing in the middle of a deserted street, snow up to his ankles. He had stared at Renjun for an instant in disbelief, before letting out a small, single giggle. A second later, a second followed, a third, and soon enough, Donghyuck was a mess of laughter. He tried to catch his breath, failed. He calmed his laughter enough to take in a big gulp of hair, attempting to regain his composure. The word eventually made his way to his brain when he suddenly went serious again, stunned:

“What did you just say?”

Renjun shook his head, before offering Donghyuck a hand:

“Walk with me?”

“This makes no sense,” he said as they walked the dirt road between two yellow fields. The landscape reminded him of his childhood, with hills and fields as far as the eye could reach. The heat should’ve made him sweat, but he didn’t feel it. He knew the temperature was high, knew the sunrays were almost blinding, but he didn’t _feel_ it.

“Forget the laws of physics,” Renjun replied. “ _You are_ a law of physics.”

Donghyuck shook his head, trying to put back into order what Renjun had just explained to him. What Renjun had just _dumped_ on him. ‘Astonishment’ didn’t even start to cover it.

“So what you’re telling me is that…” he let his voice trail in disbelief. “Is that we are a sort of- of balance? Of luck?”

Donghyuck stopped dead in his tracks while Renjun continued walking, shielding his eyes from the sun as a reflex. Renjun stopped and turned to look back at him.

“There’s a fixed amount of luck in the world, yes.” He confirmed.

“And we need to redistribute it constantly?”

Renjun nodded. “I give it away. I give luck to people.”

He didn’t add anything, but Donghyuck could almost see the words suspended in the air. ‘And I take it from them,’ he thought, the idea more daunting than he would’ve assumed moments before.

“All it takes is a touch?” he whispered, hoping.

“Yes,” Renjun answered with no elaboration, crushing Donghyuck’s little flicker of hope with it.

Donghyuck resumed his walking, a thousand speculations running through his mind. There was something absolutely dizzying and vertiginous about the turn his existence had taken in less than a day. He almost thought ‘life’, but he knew that word no longer applied to him. There was something missing, deep in his chest, hidden away in his mind and he knew it. After a few minutes of silence, listening to the faint rustling of the wind in the trees, he finally spoke aloud:

“This- this is a curse.”

“This isn’t a curse,” Renjun had simply replied. “Someone has to do it. Might as well be us.”

‘You say it as though you didn’t get the better half of our powers,’ Donghyuck wanted to shoot back, but he stopped himself. It was pointless snap at the other, and he knew his situation was none of Renjun’s fault. He had been young, he had been naïve. He had quickly resigned himself to his new condition and lost himself in the routine. Donghyuck had learnt to see the itch in his hands as an inherent part of himself. He had to adapt, and so he did, carefully following and observing Renjun as he helped Donghyuck familiarise with his new, yet familiar environment.

“Humans don’t see us,” Renjun had continued as they walked a path that zigzagged close to the seafront, a few tourists lazily strolling by despite the windy, cloudy morning. “Well, actually, they do,” he corrected himself. “But they don’t remember us once they move their attention to something else.”

“We’re not invisible,” Donghyuck tried to process.

“We’re not, but whatever embarrassing thing you do (Donghyuck chuckled lightly), they won’t remember.”

Donghyuck nodded. That made sense, of course, in a twisted, surreal way. So they could blend in, but not be recognised.

“How long have you been doing this,” Donghyuck mindlessly asked as he watched Renjun lightly touch a passer-by’s exposed hand. He saw the other boy freeze.

“Us angels, we’re not human anymore,” Renjun replied, elegantly dodging the question. “You’ll find time is a meaningless concept. Or maybe rather a negligible one.”

He had not understood Renjun’s words but had nodded anyway. Hadn’t pushed the question further. Even his usually avid curiosity had been reduced to silence by Renjun’s visible desire to avoid the topic.

Donghyuck was suddenly brought back to reality when he bumped into someone, landing flat on his butt, surprised. He quickly got up.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s alright,” the man hurriedly replied.

Donghyuck suddenly became aware of his surroundings again, quickly taking in the man standing in front him, and the tiny girl staring intently at Donghyuck. He moved to the side to let them go on their way on the sidewalk. He watched almost fondly as he caught the man tenderly reaching back to hold the little girl’s hand, the other one holding a takeaway plastic bag, probably a father and a daughter walking home after an afternoon together. He was glad he was wearing gloves. He wouldn’t dare touch them. He knew exactly just how important those moments were, and he had learnt it the hard way.

He let his mind wander up to the blossoming stars above him. There had been a time where he had been afraid of them, scared of the promise of the infinite unknown that they held. He had learnt to find an odd comfort in their watchful glow over him as he, night after night, escaped the quiet building to roam the streets as a child. Now, years, decades, centuries later, night plunged him into an inexplicable sorrow. Or not quite, but that was the closest word he had found to qualify the hollow vastness in his chest. He was like a small child again. But he had grown to love the stars too fondly to be fearful of the dark.

Of course, his duty was what called him to this seemingly aimless nocturn gallivanting. It was easy to slip into people’s houses and delicately brush past their exposed skin as they slept. Of course, there was always the risk that they’d wake up, but they wouldn’t remember anyway. Just another bad dream.

It was also what had called him to the club this night.

As far removed from humans as he felt, Donghyuck sometimes visited those places of loud music, spilt alcohol and cheesy pickup lines. In truth, it amused him. This was probably the most harmless part of his power. What harm could there be in bad flirting? The habit even sometimes managed to get a smirk from Renjun the rare times he accompanied the other boy. In all their years together, Donghyuck had noticed that Renjun didn’t seem to be fond of cramped, packed places, full of noise and people. He liked the quiet, he liked space. If he dared making the suggestion, and he didn’t, Donghyuck would almost think that Renjun liked to be left alone with his thoughts. And yet he diligently went on with his duty, never once complaining.

Sometimes, Donghyuck wished he could be more like Renjun (it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know what that meant yet).

But presently, Donghyuck was sitting at the bar of a poorly lit club, lazily gazing at the dancefloor while nursing the drink he had ordered and left untouched. For an instant, he lost himself in the beat of the bass, so loud it almost felt like it could replace the missing beats of his heart. He stared at the ballet of waltzing bodies without seeing them, their individualities lost in the only thing he perceived, their constant movement and harmonised chaos. Donghyuck unconsciously started to hum along, his lids half closed as he enjoyed the normalised anonymity of the darkness.

He caught sight of the other boy when he opened his eyes again and gazed towards the other side of the room.

This was the way many stories began. Two beings crossing gazes in a crowd, their eyes interlocking for a second that stretched into eternity as a thread quickly wove between them. If he still had a heart, Donghyuck would have sworn his would have skipped a beat when his eyes landed on the other boy across the room.

He felt stunned, trying in vain to identify the peculiar feeling that twisted in his stomach. In the dimly lit room, he could barely make out the other’s features. Black hair, dark eyes. He looked like anyone and yet Donghyuck knew he didn’t. There was something about his relaxed expression and his nonchalant attitude, his back pressed to the wall as he looked back at Donghyuck.

Then a second wonder happened. The other boy smiled.

Donghyuck knew that if he had been able to do so, a violent blush would have bloomed on his cheeks. Instead, he dropped his gaze to his drink for a while, butterflies still fluttering in his stomach, before looking up again. A small smile made its way to his lips when he saw that the boy was making his way through the sea of people towards him, his eyes fixated on him.

“Hey,” the boy half-shouted to be sure Donghyuck would hear him despite the music.

“Hey,” Donghyuck answered softly as he watched the other boy sit on the stool next to him, studying him with attention now that he was close. He was slightly shiny with sweat, which did not surprise Donghyuck given the heat inside the cramped space. His eyes lit up when he looked at Donghyuck:

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

Donghyuck couldn’t hold the laughter that bubbled inside his chest, chuckling softly. Probably seeing the positive reaction, the other boy added quickly:

“I’m Mark by the way.”

Donghyuck nodded, noticing the discrete dimples when the other smiled that he hadn’t been able to make out from afar. There was something soft and sensible about _Mark_ , something that most likely pushed elderly ladies to trust him and call him a very nice boy.

“I’m Donghyuck,” he finally replied, not wanting to make things awkward, though he knew the other boy would have no memories of the encounter. He did enjoy the occasional feeling of being human again, of being _alive_. That was one more thing Renjun didn’t seem to understand.

Mark seemed to look for his words for a second before he offered, the smile still on his lips:

“Can I offer you a drink?”

Donghyuck lifted the bottle he was still holding. “But thanks for asking,” he added softly.

He watched as Mark sat back more comfortably before turning his full attention back to Donghyuck.

“How come it’s my first time seeing you around here?”

“I’m pretty new in town,” Donghyuck answered with ease. Years of practice. This bit was true, with all the wandering he did, he was always new in town. “And I’m also kinda discrete.”

“With a smile like that? I can’t believe it.”

Donghyuck felt the corners of his lips quirk up a little further.

“Where are you from then?” Mark added.

Renjun’s words came back to his mind, pronounced so long ago it felt like another life. ‘ _Angels don’t lie, Donghyuck. However, no one stops you from not saying the truth._ ’ He hadn’t understood right away what the other boy had meant. Unlike other things related to his new state, this had been one of the first revelations he’d had. While it seemed contradictory, things were simple. He didn’t have to speak. He could always keep the truth to himself, so long as he didn’t say anything that was _untrue_.

“I’m from the South,” Donghyuck answered simply. “And you?”

“I was born here, actually,” Mark opened up. “But I’ve lived in so many places I don’t think I’m really from anywhere anymore.”

“Oh, where have you lived then?” Donghyuck asked, a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

He lost himself in Mark’s dark brown gaze as he enthusiastically described how his father’s job had led him to grow up as a 3rd culture kid, never really belonging anywhere yet quick to feel at ease in most places. Donghyuck nodded, fascinated. In a way, he could relate to that. He hadn’t felt like he belonged anywhere in a long time. Mark had come back to the city a few years ago, in his last year of high school.

“In some weird way, I don’t even miss anyone, you know?” Mark’s smile was almost apologetic. “I started college and now I’m almost relieved to be here.”

Donghyuck was leaning against the counter, his head resting on his hand. He could almost hear the sister chastising him. ‘Your head isn’t that full, it can stand on its own.’ What had brought back this memory of a time long gone? He almost shook his head at the thought. Instead, he spoke:

“I understand,” he said simply.

“You do?” Mark asked, visibly surprised.

“I too have become awfully good at farewells.”

He was good at walking away. That was a consequence of being forgotten over and over again. He focused his gaze once again on the now not-so-unknown stranger, studying his pensive features. Mark stayed silent for a moment, as silent as the atmosphere could be in a crowded club and its loud music. An irrational worry took hold of Donghyuck’s emotion. What if he had said the wrong thing? Maybe he wasn’t nearly as good at playing human as he thought. He didn’t breathe but he almost felt like suffocating.

He suddenly jerked back to his reality, of not being human, of all of this being fake. He marvelled at the thought, part fascination and part horror. Why was he worrying in the first place? Though a welcome distraction, the encounter was not real. Well, it was for the moment, but once Mark walked away, he’d become one more ghost in Donghyuck’s seemingly infinite line of forgotten memories. And that made his worries irrational. The thought of those unusual, unwelcomed feelings made him uneasy.

Mark’s voice cut the loud silence between them.

“The sun versus 3 billion lions, who do you think would win?”

Not even slightly taken aback, Donghyuck looked at him dead in the eyes.

“Depends whether the lions attack during the day or night.”

Mark looked at him in disbelief for a second, before the corners of Donghyuck’s mouth lifted and so the ever-present smile on Mark’s lips bloomed into a full fit of laughter.

That was the third miracle.

“It doesn’t take much for you to laugh,” Donghyuck teased.

“Maybe you’re just funnier than you thought,” Mark shot back after catching his breath. Donghyuck shook his head.

“I’m pretty funny, but not _that_ much, you’re just a very good audience.”

Mark raised his hand in an unapologetic way:

“So what? Sue me.”

Donghyuck let out a chuckle. There was another pause before he finally said:

“What do people even talk about when they first meet?”

“Don’t ask me, I honestly have no idea.”

“What an amazing start we’re off to, am I right?”

Mark seemed to think for a while, before he asked: “Who would win between Iron man and Batman?”

Donghyuck, on the other hand, didn’t have to think when he answered:

“Batman. It’s not like there’s any competition.”

“Excuse me?” Mark asked, outraged. “This is wrong on so many levels.”

“How? Bruce would kick Tony’s ass any day.”

And so, in a weird, nonsensical way, their conversation picked up again, the two of them in their bubble paying little attention to the world around them.

“If you could live in any historical period, which one would it be?” Donghyuck innocently asked.

“Late Middle Ages Italy,” Mark quickly replied without missing a beat. “What about you?”

Donghyuck was taken aback, tried to hide the slight discomfort as he tried to find an answer that wasn’t a lie. He had lived through those times, he tried to reason with himself. But the events had only brushed past him. He had seen chaos, he had seen ruin, and they hadn’t affected him. Sometimes he disliked how detached he knew he was. “Now is fine, I think.”

“I guess,” Mark replied, thoughtful. “But history’s so fascinating.”

“You have a really nice smile,” Mark whispered after a pause that followed Donghyuck’s claim that people whose favourite historical period was World War II were irrelevant.

“You’ve said that already, remember?”

“Yes, but I mean it. I really do.”

Donghyuck smiled at him.

There was something relaxing in pretending to be human, even for a few hours, in forgetting that soon he would have to be somewhere else, resuming the larger task at hand. Sure, he had been lightly brushing against people’s exposed skin from time to time since he had arrived, but he couldn’t stay. Already, the city was gripping at him, its grey colours sipping through his armour. He knew he couldn’t let its scent cling to his clothes. He was not the angel of this forsaken place only.

“I have to leave.”

Mark quickly checked the time on his phone.

“Already? It’s not morning yet.” Donghyuck could hear the disappointment in his voice. If he was completely honest, he could feel his own in a corner of his chest.

“Someone’s waiting for me,” he said, Renjun’s probable sermon in mind. When he saw Mark’s puzzled expression, he quickly added: “A friend.”

Mark nodded slightly, before grabbing a piece of paper and a pen out of seemingly nowhere (though Donghyuck now knew that Mark was the type to always have something to write with on him). A second later, Donghyuck was handed a note. He stared at it for a moment too long. Mark explained:

“My number.”

Donghyuck nodded, knowing well that the instant he stepped out of the club, Mark wouldn’t even remember the hours they had spent talking together about nothing and everything.

“Till we see each other again?” Mark added hesitantly.

Donghyuck offered him a smile before replying with an enthusiastic “Of course!” and turning around towards the exit. And just like that, as he’d done hundreds, thousands of times before, he walked out of Mark’s life. Just a dream.


	2. Sympathy for the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't easy, being from another time. After a few centuries, few things but the ghosts of the past still felt real. He had learnt to push past those, let nothing get a hold of him. Until one day, someone spares Donghyuck a second glance. And maybe, this time, he has found an anchor.

Sympathy for the Devil

“There is no place on Earth where Death cannot find us.”

Donghyuck let the words roll off his skin as he stared out of the window, his mind far away from the suffocating promiscuity of the room. He looked at the clouds lazily floating away, pushed by some June breeze, as the woman continued her lecture. If he even heard the words, he didn’t register them. He’d got used to their monotony over the years.

“When the time comes, there is no place on Earth where He will not find out about your sins.”

Donghyuck let out a sigh, the final word finally catching his attention. The speech had started getting old years ago. He was weary. The sister frowned in his general direction, and he focused his attention on the back of the head of the boy sitting in front of him. He knew better than to make a scene. The memories of previous beatings were not so old that he couldn’t summon them back in an instant. Unconsciously, despite the warmth of the room, he shivered.

 _Loving and merciful_.

“Donghyuck? Donghyuck!” the high voice of the old woman called. Donghyuck found her staring directly at him when he raised his gaze.

“Yes, sister?”

“You might think you don’t need to listen, but it seems that even after all those years, you’re the most in need of a constant reminder.”

He slumped further into the bench, his eyes finding the cracked window again. If he focused hard enough, he could almost hear the birds sing.

~~

“You?”

Donghyuck froze.

His day had started like any other regular day, or rather, he had continued accomplishing his mission as the sun had risen on the horizon, wherever he had been at that moment. What had led him to the cramped bookshop, squeezed tight between an Arabic supermarket and a venerable antique store, remained unknown to him. Fate.

He liked old things, things that had lived. It made him feel like he wasn’t completely losing his grip on the present like he was part of something, _anything_ still.

He was browsing the classics section, sorted by alphabetical order of authors. He heard the voice seemingly calling out to him as his beloved William Shakespeare was about to give way to the inventor of science-fiction Mary Shelley.

He had no idea how he could even remember the voice, but when he turned around, he was met with Mark’s accusing gaze. He was standing in the small alley, next to Zola, arms crossed on his chest. There could be no doubt, thought a couple of months had passed. Donghyuck didn’t forget. it was him.

For the first time in centuries, Lee Donghyuck was completely dumbfounded, unable to react.

Mark unfolded his arm, taking a step towards Donghyuck as he snapped his fingers in front of the other’s face, the anger in his eyes replaced by concern.

“Donghyuck? Remember, it’s me, Mark.”

Finally, Donghyuck seemed to emerge from his stupor.

“I- yeah, I remember… Mark?” He looked up at the other’s face, hesitant. “You remember me?”

This was wrong.

Mark nodded, the outline of a smile forming on his lips. “How could I forget?”

Donghyuck would have blushed, but this was so wrong. He had to tell Renjun. He tried to regain his confidence, preserve appearances until he could tell Renjun and hopefully calm the panic that seemed to threaten him. He didn’t register that he could put a word on the strange aching in his chest. Mark didn’t leave him time to do so as he spoke again:

“You never called or texted.”

If he hadn’t felt shell-shocked, Donghyuck would have chuckled. How absurd it all seemed in that moment. He could almost feel the laugh bubbling in his chest, but he realised that Mark felt hurt. How could he not?

“I was abroad,” he said. That was true. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t planned.” That wasn’t a lie. “I don’t have a phone,” he finally admitted. He proceeded to dig the neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket, before showing it to the other.

Mark stared at him in disbelief.

“Wh-what do you mean you don’t have a phone?”

“I should have told you then,” Donghyuck simply replied before adding: “Do you work here?”

Mark seemed taken aback for a second before Donghyuck caught a glimpse of the passion he had noticed when they’d first met. Mark was in love with his books.

“I do,” he replied enthusiastically. “Best job I’ve ever had. I can even pretend I’m researching for my dissertation when I’m just reading behind the counter when we have no clients.”

Mark’s grin was contagious. Even if he’d tried to conceal his endearment, Donghyuck wouldn’t have been able to hide the outline of a smile on his lips.

“I like books,” he said quietly, moving his gaze back to the rows of spines on the shelves. “I love stories,” he added, even quieter.

“Me too,” Mark replied in a whisper, mirroring Donghyuck’s shyness. This moment seemed almost too solemn, like a secret that shouldn’t be one, shared between both of them. Donghyuck focused his eyes on the books again, using the familiar figures to ground himself and appease the questions that bubbled in his mind.

He felt incredibly small, insignificant when he looked at them, at all those stories and tragedies and happiness and emotions hidden within the small font of the print. It was the way he felt when he looked at the stars. Sometimes it seemed that the characters had more control over their destiny than Donghyuck did.

“ _But I am in so far in blood—_ ” Mark finally said, breaking the relative silence that occupied the small shop, the buzzing of the street muted by the shield of the glass of the storefront. When Donghyuck looked at him, he saw that Mark had followed his gaze on the Shakespeare shelf.

Donghyuck completed the sentence:

“– _That sin will pluck on sin._ ”

Mark smiled. “That was my bachelor thesis.”

“You chose _Richard III_ as your subject?”

He nodded, dimples forming on his cheeks, before adding:

“ _Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, by drunken prophecies, libels and dreams, to set my brother Clarence and the king in deadly hate the one against the other._ ”

“The famous quote is right before this bit.” Donghyuck jokingly countered.

“There isn't much fun in quoting the part everybody knows,” Mark argued. But still, he added: “ _I am determined to prove a villain, and hate the idle pleasure of these days._ ”

Donghyuck smiled.

“How do _you_ know Richard III so well anyway?” Mark wondered.

“I liked his odds.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I think you could call it my favourite book. I admire Richard. I mean, he’s kind of a terrible person, but he does it so well? There’s something so compelling in watching him almost succeed in conquering the throne and staying brave and master of his fate, even in the face of death.”

Mark hummed in agreement, the smile on his face replaced by what looked like a smug grin. He quickly eyed the other titles on the shelf.

“I think it’s my favourite Shakespeare play too.”

“Oh, favourite play only?” Donghyuck said, faking outrage. “Do you have a favourite book then?”

“Well, actually I–” Mark started, before what he was about to say was cut short by the sound of the bell signalling a new visitor opening the door of the shop.

The moment was over.

Donghyuck started to turn towards the exit, letting Mark go back to his work when the other gripped his arm. Donghyuck froze, fighting every instinct to jerk his arm away. Thankfully he was always wearing long sleeves and gloves, but it didn’t ease his crispation.

“Wait–”

Donghyuck cut Mark before he could properly start his sentence:

“I should go.” He freed his arm as gently as he could, and already he manoeuvred around the client who approached Mark asked for the other’s attention. Nevertheless, Donghyuck couldn’t shake the weird sensation in his chest when he grabbed the copper handle of the door. He mechanically opened it, ready to disappear without another word when he inexplicably changed his mind:

“I’ll call!” Donghyuck quickly shouted as the door closed on him, waving the precious note with Mark’s number. “I promise I will!”

“Why do you need a phone?” Renjun asked, inquisitive.

“I just want one, there’s no law forbidding it.”

Renjun stared at him with his piercing gaze, like he was trying to force the other half of truth out of Donghyuck’s lips. Eventually, he sighed and threw his arms in frustration:

“Do what you want, I guess.” But before Donghyuck could walk away, he added: “Be careful, Donghyuck. I don’t know what exactly you’re doing, but I can sense this is dangerous territory.”

Donghyuck shrugged. For a second, he thought of telling Renjun of the peculiar connection that seemed to exist between Mark, a _human_ , and himself. Telling Renjun that Mark _remembered_ him. But, somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to reveal the strange occurrence to the other. _It’s not a problem as long as things stay the same with other humans, right?_

“What is it?” Renjun asked, his doubts regarding Donghyuck’s suspicious behaviour visibly growing.

“Nothing,” Donghyuck replied hastily. “I just got distracted. I’ll get going now.”

Donghyuck could feel the weight of Renjun’s stare as he took flight.

~~

In this small village by the sea, only solstice and high tide storms came to break the monotony of life under the crushing warmth of the sun. There was no room in the cluster of humble houses for an annual fair or a weekly market. Days came and went; the resounding chime of the church bell an omnipresent reminder of the stillness of the place. A place that was made for leaving.

When he ran away from the austere walls of what he had to call home, it was never to leave forever. What for? He had nowhere to go. No skills, no money, no name. Instead, he escaped afternoon morale lessons to run through the wheat and lavender fields in summer, escaping the scorching sun by seeking the protective shade of olive trees. He could lie down in the dirt for hours, gazing at the clouds lazily letting themselves get carried away by the afternoon breeze. More often than not, the lullaby of the cicadas in the long, half-burnt grass made him doze off until he was discovered (he didn’t like to think about what invariably followed.)

This wasn’t the place that had always called to him the most, though looking back he longed for the innocent afternoons in the buzzing of insects.

For him, the ocean has always been the closest thing to home.

“What are you thinking about?” the silence shattered as she spoke the words.

He tore his gaze off the distant line of the horizon above the sea and turned his head towards her.

“You’re not gonna like it,” he simply warned, rearranging the blanket covering her legs. She shrugged.

“I don’t like all that talk of Heaven and Hell during lessons either, but I still listen.”

Donghyuck finally moved, extending his arms towards the sky as he stretched his limbs, stiff after sitting in the sand motionless for too long. He tried to avoid Lia’s gaze, knowing she wouldn’t let the question go (He knew her. After all, they had entered the orphanage on consecutive days). She bumped her shoulder against his as he flinched.

“Come on, Hyuckie, tell me everything.”

God, how much he hated that nickname. He took a deep breath and, eyes focused back on the waves, he finally said:

“What does it feel like to be dying?”

He held his breath. The question seemed to hang in the air for a few second, while the summer breeze played with their hair and the seagulls kept crying in the cloudless sky.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” she replied, and as he finally turned to look at her, he saw her smile. “You’re dying too, you just don’t know it. You might die tomorrow before me.”

He thought for a moment.

“I guess I might.” They stayed silent for a moment, the words floating around them as the waves crashed against the sand, unfazed.

“It’s scary,” she admitted. “And it seems sad that I have to spend my entire life in such a terrible place.”

He knew she didn’t mean the beach, he knew she thought of the grey walls and the cracked window in the main classroom. Sometimes he thought she might make it. He hung onto the hope that she hadn’t coughed once since they’d escaped the afternoon mandatory study, and that maybe there was hope. But deep down, when Donghyuck looked at her livid skin, so pale he could see so many veins, or when he looked at her sunken eyes, he knew.

“God, I’m _so_ scared,” she violently shivered. “To Hell with thoughts and prayers, they’re not doing _shit_.”

It wasn’t the first time he heard her curse, but this time it felt true. Almost as if the thought hadn’t fully hit him yet, and he was only just processing how real all of this was. It had always been the two of them, in the end.

“You know you have me, right?” he let out, hesitant.

“I know,” and this time it seemed that she didn’t have the energy to fake a smile. “I’m sorry. I wish we had more time.”

Donghyuck threw his arm around her shoulders, pressing her frail body against his side.

“It’s not your fault.”

Months of coughing and collapsing and blood. Until all that was left was an empty bed soon filled up again and a small square of fresh dirt next to the others on the church grounds. He celebrated his fourteenth birthday on his own, for the first time.

She never saw the winter again.

Donghyuck was angry, more than he could admit. One never truly recovered from their first encounter with Death.

 _Loving and merciful_.

~~

hi

it’s donghyuck

surprise

i have a phone now

He stared at the screen nervously for a few seconds, before locking his phone and putting it away, as he had seen people do countless times. He checked the neatly folded piece of paper again. He knew he hadn’t mistyped the number, he’d checked 3 times.

He didn’t know what he would do if Mark didn’t answer. If suddenly, the magic had faded. If he didn’t remember. A part of him told him that it would be for the best, but it felt like that part of his thoughts didn’t truly belong to him.

omg

heyy :D

you kept your promise!!

Even if he had tried, Donghyuck wouldn’t have been able to conceal his smile.

i never break promises!

i was wondering if you wanted to like

meet up maybe

“I haven’t seen that one in a while.”

Donghyuck looked up, startled. Renjun’s expression was as neutral as ever, but there was no mistaking the amused edge to his voice. They kept walking on the side of a crowded beach.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Donghyuck replied, puzzled. Renjun gestured towards the other’s face.

“That smile. It feels like the last time I saw it was lifetimes ago.”

‘Because it was,’ Donghyuck almost replied. Instead, he pocketed the phone and wrinkled his nose in a grimace aimed at his friend.

Renjun shrugged. “Go on, keep your secrets. But you really have a beautiful smile.”

He started running away as Donghyuck kicked sand at him.

~~

Even after years to reflect on the question, Donghyuck still couldn’t decide if one got used to being abandoned or not.

It was easy enough for him to direct his anger at the children who left, got adopted, or simply disappeared. Though he had seen hundreds of them come and go, Donghyuck never forgot. He wasn’t sure if his memory was a curse or a blessing, but he remembered their faces, and at night, he cursed them for leaving him behind.

Of course, no one truly recovered from the first betrayal, the first breakup, the first friend who turned their back on you. However, it was also evident to him that it was difficult to stay angry at someone you didn’t know.

Who had it been? A parent, most likely a mother, gently holding the warmly wrapped up baby, walking down the nave. In Donghyuck’s dreams, she paused for a while, staring at the imposing cross mounted on the wall, the same cross Donghyuck had been forced to look at for years. She timidly passed the rood screen, before stopping before the altar, nervously rearranging some imaginary loose blanket on the child. She delicately put the infant down, careful that no exposed skin rested against the cold stone of the floor. Most nights, in his dreams, she stared at him for a second, before walking away and never looking back. This is what Donghyuck had got used to, over the years.

When he was unlucky, however, she left a kiss on his forehead, and when she’d walked halfway through the nave, she turned and looked back at him, sadness and pain painting her features.

He didn’t want to think about that possibility.

Though he obviously had no recollection of the event, the story had been told to him numerous times, reminding him how much of a burden he had been ever since he was born.

As far as he could remember, he’d always been painfully aware of how people _left_. They always did.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, felt like he was unable to leave.

As he lay in bed at night aged 8, eyes glued to the ceiling as sleep eluded him, he tried not to think about what things could have looked like, had he been enough. He tried not to wonder whether he got his dimples from his mother or his father. What their jobs were, where they lived. If he had siblings, if there was someone out there he could call family. He turned to lie on his side, looking for an illusion of comfort in the dirtied, worn-out blanket.

When he was 11, he had long stopped hoping that someone would come for him. He was too old, too many years had passed. They could have come back if they wanted, wanted him. There had been no place in their lives for him before, and there never would be. He had to make a place for himself.

Once, when he was 13, he allowed himself to dwell on his loss and mourn. Just once.

When he turned 14, he hoped she was dead. If she was dead, at least it meant he could stop torturing himself with the idea that she had simply moved on and forgotten. Started over, sitting happily in her home. Something Donghyuck had never known. That meant he could stop chasing a shadow.

When he turned 14, God also decided he was too old to stay under His care. The abbess had seemed eager to rid herself of his moods and insolence. He knew there would be someone to take possession of his bed that same night. He knew that was one less worry on her mind. There was a spark of excitement in his chest when the imposing woman had stopped in front of him during breakfast. He had lifted his gaze slowly.

“Yes sister?” he had asked, concealing the hint of a smile that threatened to make its way to his lips.

“Your time is up, Donghyuck.”

He had expected the words to come as the anniversary of his arrival (the closest they had ever got to an actual birthday) inexorably approached. Hell, he had _hoped_ for the day to come where he would be dismissed. A step closer to his leap to freedom.

“Up?” he still asked, almost hesitantly. The nun’s expression hardened.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

He paused an instant before nodding.

He had expected those words, but their reality rung to his ears. ‘Your time is up, Donghyuck’. He wasn’t sure he could identify the odd feeling brewing in his chest. He looked around him, at the dozens of eyes fixated on him. They all knew him. He was the oldest, after all, left behind as other kids ran away or were shipped away.

“Have your things ready by noon,” the nun simply added, not waiting from a spoken answer from Donghyuck as she moved away to chastise some poor girl who had spilt water on herself.

Until noon was a terribly short time and an unbearable wait at the same time. He glanced at the empty bowl facing him on the table. He could sense that his neighbours were avoiding his gaze, their conversations skilfully diverted away from him. He got up.

Apprehension and a sense of impending doom.

That was what had been hiding in his chest.

~~

Graveyards were a floating world, a careful liminal space that attempted to bridge the abyss between the realms of life and death.

Here, on the outskirt of the bustling metropolis, the rushing of cars and bubbling of agitation subsided, leaving room for the quiet haven of the graveyard. Donghyuck had always thought of cemeteries as peaceful places. Whatever sorrows, whatever anger, whatever regrets had been tormenting those people had now long disappeared. He found comfort in knowing that no pain was eternal. The only thing that came to disturb the soundless retreat of the place was the living. Donghyuck did his best to avoid those.

But there was something different about graveyards after the snow.

Donghyuck watched, perched on a tombstone, as nature continued its motionless dance. Taking in the sight of endless, immaculate cover that had, in the span of a night, taken over the city, swift and deadly. Snow made a soft bed, but no one woke from it. That was the wisdom of the North. The snowflakes had ceased to fall, and everything within his sight looked frozen in place, stuck in time. A floating world far from the concerns of the mundane world.

He spared a quick glance to his perching location. He was sure Erika wouldn’t mind. Dead people didn’t mind anything, he knew that for a fact. As always, he had found refuge in the oldest section of the ancient graveyard, where tombstones threatened to collapse under the weight of time and the pressure of nature. In that part, gardeners left trees and other plants reclaim their right to the plot of land, slowly covering the manmade memorials in moss and greenery. This was another aspect that made Donghyuck so fond of the place. The knowledge that, with time, everything humanity did would disappear without leaving a trace. Loss was temporary. While this thought was alarming to most people, the inhuman part of him saw the beauty in the fact that pain was not the only thing men created that was not eternal.

He often came here to calm the turmoil that brewed inside of him. He sometimes came here in an attempt to fill the void in his chest that threatened to swallow him whole, as nature threatened to swallow this place. That made Donghyuck wonder whether he should just let it do it.

He caught a glimpse of a moving shadow, and so he swiftly jumped off the gravestone. He wondered which poor soul had wandered out in the icy breeze of the winter air. Soundlessly and gracefully, he made his way through the alley, observing where the walking silhouette would stop. When it finally came to a halt, Donghyuck noted that this section was more recent than his usual refuge, but still old enough that the pilgrimage of visitors was peaceful. You learnt how to let go, eventually. You learnt how to ease that tug on your heart.

Donghyuck stopped for an instant as he thought he recognised the lonely figure’s face. He almost shook his head in disbelief, before trusting his instinct. The mess of black hair exposed to the cold bite of the morning, the thin frames perched on the other’s nose. The unreadable expression on his features as he absently gazed at the stone and fiddled with the bouquet in his hands. Donghyuck made his steps heavier to warn the other of his presence as he walked towards him from the side, but what he now recognised to be a young man didn’t react before Donghyuck finally said:

“Peculiar place to see each other again.” Definitely not as nice as that small café-library where they’d met up two weeks prior.

Mark suddenly turned his head, his eyes confused before a spark of recognition ignited his look.

“We keep meeting.” A faint smile appeared on his lips. “Are you obsessed with me or something?”

Donghyuck chuckled. During the short silence before Mark smiled, a sense of fear had tried to make its way into his mind. What if he was interrupting something? What if Mark was offended that Donghyuck was so volatile and absent? He’d never had to worry about that.

Thankfully, Mark was _Mark_ , and he had the audacity to laugh.

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. Maybe I’m just waiting for the right opportunity to kill you.” Donghyuck gestured towards the desert, motionless landscape around them.

“Are you?” Mark asked.

“No,” he admitted. No lies.

The smile didn’t leave Mark’s face. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

Donghyuck watched as Mark slowly balanced from one foot to the other, his gaze towards the ground before he looked at the angel once more:

“What are you doing here?” He eyed Donghyuck’s simple attire, a jacket but no coat in the frozen winter morning. “It’s freezing cold.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘fucking cold’,” he teased. Mark couldn’t possibly know that Donghyuck didn’t _feel_ the cold. Mark shrugged.

A moment passed. The air was completely still as if nature was readying itself for more snow.

“I just like coming here to empty my head,” Donghyuck eventually answered. “It’s peaceful.”

Mark’s gaze got lost on the horizon, towards the fields covered in snow.

“Yeah, it is.”

Silence settled between them again. Though it didn’t make Donghyuck uncomfortable, he knew it wasn’t natural.

“I’m sorry I disturbed you,” he apologised.

Mark shook his head as if to refocus his gaze and his thoughts, before reassuring him:

“You didn’t. I wasn’t planning on staying long anyway.”

He looked around as if he were suddenly confused about their location. He finally turned towards Donghyuck, taking a few steps until they were at the same level.

“Need a ride?”

“You really don’t have to–” Donghyuck started, avoiding Mark’s eyes.

“I insist,” Mark said, his hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder. This forced Donghyuck to look at him. Mark’s gaze was worried. “It’s a long way to the city.”

‘Long way’ was a relative concept, but Donghyuck was forced to accept nonetheless. He quickly followed in Mark’s steps and they walked side by side to his car in silence. The only car on the parking lot was an old, tired red car. Somehow, it made sense. The crimson, faded by the years, stood in stark contrast with the cold colours of the landscape, the white of the snow and the grey of the sky accompanied by the deep black of the road that had been exposed by the tyres of the car.

“I’m assuming this is yours,” Donghyuck observed sarcastically. He heard Mark chuckle.

“You would be correct in your assumption,” Mark shot back, closing the distance that separated him from the door of the driver’s seat.

After watching Mark struggle with his frozen lock, Donghyuck imitated him and climbed into the car. It smelled like dust, melted snow and lemon.

“Sorry for the mess,” Mark said, and before Donghyuck could answer that the car didn’t look messy to him, he added “Don’t look at the backseat.”

Donghyuck shrugged, but as Mark painfully started the car, the engine loudly complaining about the sub-zero temperature, he glanced at the mirror, getting a look at the piles of books and abandoned takeout wrapping thrown at the back of the car. He sank deeper into his seat. He had never cared much about order.

For long minutes that seemed to stretch like hours, they drove without a word, the silence only broken momentarily by Mark’s soft cursing at the road and the car. Donghyuck’s gaze fell back to the small bouquet of flowers that had remained in Mark’s hand a long time before ending up in the space between the 2 front seats of the car.

“Who did you come to visit?” he asked as they were waiting at a red light, despite being the only car for kilometres.

Mark turned to look at Donghyuck, before following the other’s gaze down towards the gear stick. He didn’t answer immediately. The light had finally turned green, and he drove on for a short moment, seemingly thinking about the right way to answer the innocent yet loaded question. Eventually, he replied:

“The one thing that keeps me from leaving this hell of a place.”

Donghyuck nodded. He thought about something, _anything_ , to change the topic to something lighter, something _friendly_.

“How was the last book you read?”

Inevitably he saw Mark’s eyes light up, full of the little twinkling stars that Donghyuck realised he had craved.

“The last one I read wasn’t that good, but I’m halfway through a novel right now and it’s _so_ good...”

~~

When Donghyuck was 19, he no longer spent his sleepless nights lying in bed.

Lying motionless, he thought of the brief exchange he’d had in the morning.

“Tonight,” the other boy had whispered when a small group had passed by the shop’s open door as Donghyuck was silently sweeping the floor. He had simply nodded, barely looking back at the other, who had already made his way through the usual business of the merchant street.

City life was something he had never dreamt of. He didn’t _hate_ it, there was something thrilling about the constant buzzing and agitation around him at every hour of the day and night. But if he were given the possibility to trade the endless flow of people for the distant lulling of the sea, he wouldn’t have thought about it one second.

If he were to be honest with himself, he would admit that he could have it back. He could work hard, learn as much as possible, finish his apprenticeship and move back to his hometown, with an honest job to spite the abbess. He could have a quiet life, between the blue of the sea and the blue of the sky.

But this wasn’t what ‘tonight’ meant.

It meant that Donghyuck was too good with his fingers for his own good.

“Where did you learn how to pick a lock?”

Donghyuck looked away from the drawer he had just freed to meet the eyes of the other apprentice, Min.

“I taught myself,” he answered simply, before retrieving the instrument he’d needed that had been safely hidden away by their master.

“Can you lock it again?”

He simply nodded. He watched as the other seemed to think over his words, coldly calculating what the net benefit of taking his junior on midnight strolls would be. As the other remained motionless, Donghyuck hoped that the master wouldn’t come back early from his usual pub appointment. He carefully shut the drawer back in place, before using 2 bits of metal until he heard the mechanics of the lock give off a satisfying click.

“Oh, Lee,” the other started while lifting Donghyuck from the floor, “my friends are gonna be so pleased to meet you tonight.”

‘Tonight’ meant that at an ungodly hour of the night, Donghyuck was up and running, quickly making his way to the rendezvous point, before they’d all head for their target. He stopped an instant, feeling the caress of the wind carding through his hair. From his viewpoint on the roof, he could see the vast maze of the city deploy in front of him. A beautiful playground.

Min turned back to look at him.

“You coming, instead of admiring the view?”

Donghyuck jumped from the chimney he was perched on and leapt next to the other boy, mumbling:

“Yeah yeah, I know.”

And as the other is about to shoot back an answer he already knew, he added:

“Tonight’s a big one.” He doesn’t add _for the gang_ but that is implied.

Min nodded, before taking a step back and throwing himself from the roof onto the next one. He tried not to think about whether or not he was free to leave. _You swore. They’ve given you so much_ , said that little voice inside his head. He silenced it. Tonight was the last time. Tonight, he would get out.

~~

They came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the countryside, without a single building in sight. Donghyuck offered Mark a confused glance.

“What just…?”

“I’m sorry, oh my god I’m so sorry,” Mark said as he opened his door and exited the car, almost panicked.

“Mark?” Donghyuck called after him, following him outside in the frozen air. Already, Mark was struggling against the car’s [LID]. “Oh.”

Mark lifted his gaze, a guilty expression plastered over his features.

“My car broke down,” he said simply. “It happens all the time.”

At first, Donghyuck tried to remain quiet. Mark obviously didn’t feel proud of the situation, betrayed by his sad face, but despite his best efforts, he felt laughter bubbling in his chest. He resisted until the last second until he couldn’t keep the giggles in. Mark stared at him as he struggled to breathe in:

“I’m sorry this isn’t funny,” and yet he couldn’t stop himself. “It’s just…”

He didn’t manage to squeeze the last words out as his body was shaken by another fit.

Slowly, Mark’s frown turned into a smile into something, and he was chuckling as well.

“That’s what happens when you drive an old, shitty car,” Mark tried to justify. “I just hope it doesn’t happen when I’m out with cute boys.”

Finally able to calm himself, Donghyuck found himself grateful that he couldn’t blush.

“I’m- I’m what?”

“I said you were cute, Lee Donghyuck,” Mark answered, focused on the complex maze of pipes and engine. The smile he was wearing before hadn’t wavered.

“Is…” for once, Donghyuck was outsmarted. His usual confidence faltered, and he felt at loss for words. “Is that the best you can do?”

 _Weak weak weak_. But his brain seemed to refuse to respond as he managed to tear his gaze away from Mark. Were those butterflies?

“You don’t even know how to take a compliment and you want more?” Mark shot back jokingly. “But alright. I think you’re breath-taking and ephemeral like no human should be allowed to be.”

Donghyuck tried to ignore the shiver that coursed through his body at those words. This felt slightly dangerous and scandalous, yet he enjoyed it so badly. This was _not_ allowed.

“You’re so _smart_ ,” he said sarcastically, the only thing he could think of to mask the turmoil that was starting to take form inside his mind. “You know so many words.”

“What can I say, I study literature,” Mark declared matter-of-factly.

Donghyuck hummed. “Literature, hm?”

He went to sit on the fence delimitating the nearest field, watching Mark wrestle with various cables.

“Tell me a story then.”

They’d been quiet for a few minutes when eventually, the tallest skyscrapers of the city came into view. Donghyuck was observing Mark, stealing glances when he knew the other was focused on the road, and so he saw the sudden change in his gaze.

“I hope someday I’ll make it out of here. Alive.”

Mark glanced down at the gloved hand Donghyuck had placed on his on the gear stick, reassuring. Then, slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet Donghyuck’s. The knot in his chest was growing tighter and tighter, incredibly so.

“You’ve lived in so many places before. You can leave again.”

Mark remained silent for a moment, before replying:

“I can go away.” He paused again. “I’m not sure I can leave.”

And somehow, Donghyuck understood. Knew he was referring to a small engraved stone in the middle of a barren landscape and not to the suffocating heights of the buildings and the vertiginous packed trains of the subway during rush hour.

“All of us have had to grow and leave something behind,” Donghyuck observed. There was another pause before he added. “Leaving is incredibly difficult.”

“I’ll be fine, right?”

If Donghyuck had still required breathing, he would’ve been suffocating. He wished for the hand resting on Mark’s to stop shaking, stop burning, but he knew better. He nodded again.

“You’ll be fine, Mark Lee. We haven’t known each other for a long time, but somehow I know that for a fact.”

He hoped Mark didn’t notice the way his eyes wouldn’t meet his.

As the city drew closer, Mark finally remembered to ask:

“Where should I drop you off?”

Donghyuck thought for a second, incapable of weaving a lie.

“The place where we first met. That’ll do.”

Mark nodded, smoothly driving the car towards that eccentric neighbourhood, pulling up in front of the club. Donghyuck didn’t want it to be over, though he knew that he should. But lately, he’d become an expert at walking the fine line between what was allowed and what he desired. As he got off the car, he looked back at Mark.

“I like when you drive me around like that. It makes me feel safe.”

Mark smiled, and the ache in his chest painfully reminded him of all the things that had been going through his head lately.

“We should do that again, then,” Mark replied. “Maybe without the car though. I don’t want it breaking down on us again.”

“We really should.”

He shut the door and waved at Mark, watching as the car departed and disappeared on the street corner. He stood there a long time, staring at the melting snow on the pavement. His chest had never felt heavier.

Deep inside, he knew how wrong this was. This simply could not be. He did not want to think about how his chest hurt where his heart’s pace would have picked up when he received a text message from him. How he would do his duty, roam the street and only look for a single face in the crowd. How for the first time in forever, he had felt warmth on his skin where his hand had been resting on Mark’s. _Heat_.

Angels did not feel, did not care.

And yet, deep down, he knew.

He was in love with Mark Lee.

~~

When they finally reached their destination, on the opposite side of the city, far from his own guild’s territory

Without a word, their leader gestured at the door, getting Donghyuck’s attention. This was where he came in. Fairy fingers, a nickname that had been following him for 5 years. ‘What would we do without you and your magical hands, Lee?’ It felt nice to be needed. Felt daring to play cards with Lady Fate with a 5th ace up his sleeve.

“Fuck!”

Donghyuck knew better than to turn and try to identify what had triggered the curse word from his leader. His instinct took over and he did the one thing he could do. Run.

Five years had allowed him to get to know the city intimately. Not as a friend, but as a very well-acquainted mistress. He knew her bends and turns, he knew the feeling of the pavement under his feet as he followed Min, Song and the others through her narrow alleys and cramped passages. He knew how she felt, how she _should_ feel, yet something was off. Terribly off.

He kept running.

They were fast. The fastest. _Never been caught, never will be_ , as their leader liked to say. Donghyuck was fast, but as he tried to inhale deeply, his world became red. Air wouldn’t reach his lungs. He heard himself cry out, felt his legs trying to resume their course. He tried to take a deep breath again, desperately gasped as his vision blurred. It didn’t hurt. He just needed _air_.

“Lee?”

He heard Min, but he was far away. So far away.

The day is October 21st.

And that night, as he fell, he could hear her voice ringing in his ears:

“Your time is up, Donghyuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys i'm spending most of my days at home since my classes have been switched to online and i thought it'd be nice to post this new chapter. i really need to kick my own butt and finish the next one but like it's happening. i know where i'm going and i know what i have to say, i just have to get myself off tvtropes.  
> kudos if you get the chapter title reference~
> 
> [buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/rcmanov)  
> find me on twitter screaming [@kygotseven](http://twitter.com/kygotseven)  
> remember that kudos and comments and bookmarks keep authors alive

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this a long time ago. a very long time ago. it's not finished as of right now (though i have a couple more chapters completed to post) but i need to get it off my chest.  
> kudos if you get the chapter title reference~
> 
> [buy me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/rcmanov)  
> find me on twitter screaming [@kygotseven](http://twitter.com/kygotseven)  
> remember that kudos and comments and bookmarks keep authors alive (especially me bc uni and life in general is killing me)


End file.
